The remnants of loss
by VaryMyDays
Summary: A short story, inspired by the movie Quartet (2012), that takes place the evening after Jean and Cissy have had their run-in. Jean is sitting on a bench outside of Beecham House at dusk, braving the chilly September air and mulling over the day's events that had led to the predicament she found herself currently in.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** **Thanks for reading and reviewing.** **This story has not been beta-read, so any and all mistakes are my own. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **The remnants of loss**

Chapter 1

It had taken her the better part of the night but she'd finally fallen asleep; drawn into Morpheus' comforting arms by the soothing, melodious sound of her younger voice on the record player. She'd woken up the next morning, annoyed at awakening in her chair again causing her hip to fail her once more. Her annoyance served to fuel the anger she felt remembering the previous night's events, strengthening her resolve to confront her so-called friends about their ridiculous notion of getting the quartet back together. Honestly! What had gotten into them? The very idea of it was quite simply preposterous. Who would want to see a couple of geriatrics on stage, trying desperately to hold onto past successes and making utter fools of themselves, mere shadows of the magnificent performers they used to be? Moreover, had they really thought they could trick her into performing again, and in such a deceitful and hurtful way at that – under the guise of dinner and a night out together, for old times' sake. They'd let her believe they still cared about her, all the while intent on forcing her to do the one thing she'd sworn she would never do again: perform. The feeling of having been betrayed had made her even more determined to give them a piece of her mind.

After Jean had gone down to the dining room this morning and said her piece, getting in a satisfying jab at Anne Langley as well – she hadn't been able to help herself – she'd left seeking the peace and quiet of her room. Her sanctuary, lonely though it may be. However, things had then unexpectedly spiraled out of control, resulting in her lashing out at Cissy. She'd almost immediately regretted her outburst and gone after Cissy, but her stubborn pride kept her from acting on the urge. Instead, she'd sunk back down onto her bed, clasping the broken flowers in her hand, and allowed the tears of desperation to slowly trickle down her face; the feeling of loss and regret all too familiar.

* * *

Now, several hours later, after having spent most of the day in her room, ashamed to face anyone, she found herself alone in the cold, yet again. Cissy was recovering in the hospital wing and Jean was sure it would be some time before she, or Reg and Wilf for that matter, would be willing to speak to her again. The answer to the simple question as to why all of this could have happened when their friendship had finally been on the mend, eluded her.

She had known when she'd made the decision to move into Beecham House that the comfortable life she'd led up until then would be experiencing some bumps in the road. For one thing, she was convinced – and rightfully so, it seemed – that Reggie wouldn't be too pleased to lay eyes on her again after decades of having kept their distance from each other, both professionally and personally. Nevertheless, Beecham House had been her first and only choice after it had become apparent that she could no longer live by herself in her beautiful, spacious flat due to that bloody hip of hers acting up.

"Why was it that when the mind was still willing, the body decided to opt out?," she kept wondering.

Beecham House was the only home for the elderly that housed former musicians and performers, and Jean was certain she would be able to feel at home amongst her peers, surrounded by the music she adored. It was a mere coincidence that Reggie also happened to live there – at least, that's what she'd talked herself into believing after she'd signed the admittance papers. His presence had in fact been influential in choosing Beecham House, even though she knew she couldn't afford to live there. Thankfully, she'd gotten some financial backing – or pity money as she mockingly liked to refer to it – which enabled her to pay for her room and board. The impending confrontation with her former husband was never far from her mind though.

* * *

In the weeks leading up to the move, the feelings of anxiety and trepidation had increased and Jean had even entertained the thought of calling the whole thing off and moving into another retirement home. That was until she had decided she was too old to allow fear to take over her life or live with regret any longer. She was certain that as time went on, she and Reggie would be able to live side by side in a civil and well-mannered way. Naturally, their first encounter would be awkward and probably even painful, but this time they would talk things over once and for all in order to put the past where it belonged – in the past. Jean had been imagining how their conversation would play out, going over what it was that she wanted to say to Reggie, again and again. But even though her words were heartfelt, they now sounded insincere and rehearsed. And how could she even begin to atone for the egregious mistake she had made nearly fifty years ago?

At the time she had apologized profusely at every opportunity, of which there weren't many, but to no avail. With the move to Beecham House, she was hoping to finally lay those demons to rest that had been plaguing her ever since that morning when she'd confessed to Reggie she had been unfaithful to him. She could still picture the scene so clearly in her mind, just like it was yesterday. She'd wholeheartedly believed their love and connection to be strong enough to overcome even the worst of times. But she had been proven wrong. So terribly wrong...


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Text in italics denotes a flashback.** **Thanks for reading and reviewing.** **This story has not been beta-read, so any and all mistakes are my own. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **The remnants of loss**

Chapter 2

" _I can't believe you agreed to a simple ceremony at the registrar's office," Reggie exclaimed as they walked up the stairs to their room at the quaint little inn they'd just checked into._

" _Well," Jean said smiling, "after you finally got round to proposing, I thought it best to get the whole thing over with before you had time to change your mind."_

" _Not a chance, my love," Reggie said adoringly, swooping his new bride up in his arms after they'd reached their room, and carrying her over the threshold of their honeymoon suite for the day. Suite seemed rather a generous word for the small but tidy room that greeted them, but at that point, neither one of them could've cared one bit._

" _You know this is all very cliché, don't you, Reg? Not very imaginative at all," the twinkle in Jean's eyes belying her reprimanding tone of voice._

" _Well, we can't all be like Alfredo and I do believe, my lovely Violetta, that your adventurous spirit will more than make up for my apparent lack of imagination," Reggie said as he walked over to the canopied four-poster bed and sat his bride gently down. Jean kept her arms wrapped around Reggie's neck and brought their lips together in a passionate kiss – their first as husband and wife outside of the registrar's office._

" _What exactly did you mean by 'after I'd finally got round to proposing'?," Reggie asked breaking away from their embrace when the need for air became too great to continue their heated kiss, and sitting down on the bed next to Jean._

" _After all, we had only been together for nearly a year."_

" _Only been together for nearly a year?!," Jean cried out, chuckling at her husband's surprised and slightly indignant tone._

" _We had been circling one another for five years before we both eventually swallowed our pride, shoved our egos to one side and admitted to loving each other. So it was hardly a short courtship, darling. Your proposal was long overdue, I'd say."_

" _As is this," Reggie said cupping Jean's face in his hands and kissing her soft lips with the desire that had been slowly building along with their familiar banter. It never ceased to amaze either of them how a simple exchange of words could so quickly ignite the fiery sparks within them, creating a roaring fire in mere seconds; their passion and yearning rivaling those of the characters they portrayed onstage._

" _So, my love, what would you like to do, now that we are finally married?," Reggie inquired lovingly,_ _overemphasizing the word 'finally',_ _after he slowly lifted his lips from Jean's._

" _It's only nine in the morning and we don't have to be back in Covent Garden until five o'clock this afternoon. Since, technically, our wedding night isn't until tonight, we might take this opportunity to take a stroll around town. I doubt many of the locals are opera aficionado's so we could bask in the glow of anonymity."_

" _Although that sounds like a marvelous idea," Jean replied, "I believe instead we might be in need of a little more rehearsing before tonight's performances," she added in a sultry voice._

 _Reggie tilted his head and looked at her with a boyish smirk on his lips._

" _Taking a page out of my book of clichés, are you?"_

 _Jean simply winked at him seductively as Reggie continued playfully._

" _You may have a point, though. And knowing you to be quite the perfectionist, I'd be more than happy to help you rehearse every small detail you want to go over. In fact, I might be in need of some rehearsal myself. After all, we wouldn't want to disappoint our audiences now, would we?"_

" _Certainly not," Jean agreed wrapping her arms around Reggie once again and pulling him on top of her as she laid down on the bed._

* * *

 _A short time later both of them woke up to the sound of the town's church bells signaling the passing of two hours. Jean slowly opened her eyes and turned her head to the side to meet her husband's sleepy yet loving gaze. She rolled onto her side, snuggling comfortably back into Reggie's outstretched arms and brushing her nose against his neck. His scent was intoxicating._

" _How about some breakfast?" Reggie asked, kissing the top of Jean's head._

" _I seem to have worked up quite an appetite. We are rather proficient at rehearsing when we set our minds to it," he added, looking down at Jean who lifted her face to meet the cheeky look in his eyes._

" _That would be wonderful, darling," Jean replied smiling, a slight blush adorning her cheeks._

* * *

 _Thirty minutes later, they were enjoying their belated wedding breakfast of champagne and scrambled eggs in bed, both clad in warm plush robes. The weather had been quite frosty this January morning, not that either of them had noticed in their current state of marital bliss._

" _I'm so pleased your engagement at the Scala lasted only six weeks. It was awfully lonely in Covent Garden without you there," Reggie said as he sipped from his second glass of champagne, looking at Jean with such love that she felt compelled to look away – overcome by the sheer emotion of the moment as well as a profound sense of guilt._

 _Noticing the sudden change in his wife's mood, Reggie put his glass down and his tray to one side, cupped Jean's chin and turned her face slowly around to look up at him while he soothingly ran his thumb along her jaw._

" _What is it, my love? What's come over you?"_

 _Jean kept her eyes glued to the bed sheets, afraid to look up and confront the reality of what was about to irrevocably change their blissful morning._

" _Jean? Please look at me."_

 _As she finally lifted her gaze to meet the concerned look emanating from her husband's loving eyes, Jean felt she couldn't keep the truth from him any longer._

" _Oh, Reg, I am so dreadfully sorry," she whispered quietly, wrapping her arms protectively around herself and swallowing hard to push away the tears that threatened to fall._

" _I never meant for it to happen."_

 _Reggie looked at her, brushing his hand lovingly across her cheek, confusion spread all over his face._

" _What do you mean? What happened? I'm afraid I don't understand what you're talking about, my love."_

 _Jean gathered up her courage and cleared her throat to steady her voice as she looked Reggie in the eyes. There was no escaping it now._

" _You know I told you about what happened at the party after the opening night of Tosca at the Scala?," Reggie nodded his head affirmatively as Jean continued._

" _Well, there is something I neglected to tell you. After the party had wound down, Roberto and I, along with some of the crew, went to a bar near the opera house and had a few more drinks to celebrate our opening night success. Roberto insisted on walking me to my hotel afterwards. At first I refused, but I was in no state to argue at length and it was quite late in the evening, so I relented and allowed him to walk me home."_

 _Jean felt Reggie's hand leave her face, already regretting the loss of his soft caress, and she slowly saw his look of love and concern turn into one of hurt and anger as he began to realise what she was about to confess to him. She took a deep breath._

" _When we got to the hotel, Roberto walked me to my room. I opened the door and was leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek to wish him a good night and to thank him for being such a gentleman. That's when he suddenly turned his head and I found myself kissing him full on the lips. The next thing I knew, we were on the bed. When I woke up the next morning, my mind still clouded by an alcoholic haze, I was horrified to discover what I'd done."_

 _Jean hadn't taken her eyes off Reggie while relaying her story and she noticed he'd hardly moved since she'd first started speaking._

" _I am so very sorry, Reg. There's no excusing what I did. It never should have happened and I will be forever regretting that it has. I won't insult you by saying it meant nothing because I hope you know it didn't. My heart belongs to you, Reg. It always will."_

 _Still awaiting his response she softly added,_

" _Reg, please, say something," her voice betraying a small tremble as she once again fought to push away the tears that wanted to make their presence known in her candid blue eyes._

 _Jean was waiting, wishing, for an outburst of anger or grief from Reggie. Their passionate fights had been the stuff of legend among their peers, but they had always found their way back to one another, drawn by an invisible string that tugged at both their hearts and couldn't be severed. Yet somehow, things were different now. Reggie still hadn't reacted to anything Jean had said but had kept looking straight at her, his piercing gaze boring holes into her soul. She saw the obvious anger in his eyes, but she was shocked at the amount of grief and pain they projected._

" _Reg? Would you please speak to me? We need to talk about this," Jean asked carefully._

 _Reggie finally reacted, but instead of speaking, he abruptly looked away from Jean, got up off the bed, quickly grabbed his clothes and his bag, and ran to the door. As he put his hand on the door handle, his back to Jean, she pleaded._

" _Reggie, please, don't leave. Please talk to me, yell at me, throw things at me, curse at me. Anything. Just don't leave! Not like this!"_

 _Reggie turned the door handle, opened the door and ran out, letting the door fall closed as he hurdled down the stairs and out of the inn, not once turning back to look at his wife._

 _Jean felt her fighting spirit leave her as Reggie closed the door on her, and possibly their life together. When she heard the ignition of a car being switched on and the subsequent sound of a car driving off, she broke down, finally allowing the tears to flow freely, and she started to cry uncontrollably._

" _Reggie, please don't leave," she repeated softly._

" _Don't leave… me," she whispered barely audible between sobs to the now cold and empty room._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: It's worth noting that I have employed some artistic license in this chapter by using the Coliseum as an opera venue, while in actual fact it didn't come into use as such until the Sadler's Wells Opera Company made it their home in 1968.**

 **Text in italics denotes a flashback. T** **his story has not been beta-read, so any and all mistakes are my own.** **Thanks for reading and reviewing.** **No copyright infringement intended.**

 **The remnants of loss**

Chapter 3

 _It was five thirty in the afternoon and Jean was sitting in her dressing room at the Royal Opera House getting ready for the evening performance of La Traviata. Thinking back to earlier that day and the loving way Reggie had referred to themselves as Alfredo and Violetta, she felt herself well up again. She couldn't remember ever feeling the joy she'd felt this morning at that little inn, when life had seemed so wonderfully uncomplicated. For that fleeting moment in time, the outside world had ceased to exist. In their little corner of the world, life had simply revolved around the two of them and their future as husband and wife, loving each other and being in love. However, as she'd soon been reminded, most things in life and love were anything but simple._

 _Jean looked down at her left hand, fiddling with the bespoke wedding ring symbolizing her unending love for Reggie. She cherished the feel of the ring on her finger – remembering Reggie's steady hand as he put it on – proof that she was his wife, forever. This morning had been as close to perfect as she could've ever wished for – the small civil ceremony, the tiny room at the inn, their loving banter and passionate lovemaking. But in the cold light of day, this morning seemed nothing but a distant memory; her happiness having turned into despair in just the blink of an eye._

 _When Jean had arrived at the Royal Opera House earlier this afternoon, the shining gold and diamond encrusted wedding band gracing her left ring finger hadn't gone unnoticed by her colleagues. Every single one of them had come up to congratulate her warmly amidst amused cries of 'It was about damn time' and 'Good man, Reggie'. She'd had a difficult time keeping a smile on her face and acting happy, when the reality she found herself in was less than joyful._

"Acting _happy was right," she'd thought to herself ruefully._

 _Some of her cast members had playfully alluded to her upcoming wedding night, suggesting she might want to consider letting her understudy take the stage and get an early night, but as it was, there was no wedding night to look forward to. Jean hadn't seen or spoken to Reggie after she had told him the truth, prompting him to literally run from her, and she'd felt altogether lost without him since. At this very moment, he was down the road at the Coliseum preparing for his starring role in Lucia de Lammermoor. Jean decided she would go and see him straight after the curtain had come down tonight. They had to talk about what happened. It couldn't end like this. Not after all they had overcome. It simply couldn't._

 _In an effort to regain her composure and get on with the preparations for the performance, she got up from her chair and walked over to the en-suite bathroom to wash away the tears that had once again left long clear streaks all over her striking face. After she came back out, there was a knock at the door. Her heart leapt up. Could it be?_

" _Yes?", she asked tentatively, "Come in."_

 _The door opened to reveal the ever-smiling face of Derek, the company manager, and her heart sank. It had been too much to hope for. "You fool!," she scolded herself internally._

" _My apologies, Miss Horton... I mean, Mrs. Paget," Derek corrected himself quickly as he handed her an envelope, "This was just delivered for you by courier."_

 _Jean thanked him as she took the envelope and closed the door behind him._

" _Mrs. Paget," she mused, a smile gracing her lips as she walked over to her dressing table and opened the envelope. How she loved the sound of that name._

 _When she took out the contents of the envelope and started to read, she grabbed hold of the chair in front of her dressing table and let herself fall back on it; the harsh reality was staring her straight in the face causing her eyes to once again fill with countless tears, expressing the increasing pain that slowly enveloped her soul. Reggie had served her with divorce papers. She would be Mrs. Paget no longer. As the realisation dawned on her, a profound sense of loss and regret took up residence in her heart – powerful feelings that would continue to haunt her from that moment on._

* * *

Jean was pulled back into reality by the soft breeze that had grown more chilly as the hours had almost unnoticeably passed by. The cold September air made her shiver, reminding her that she had been sitting on that bench for far too long. Remembering the events of her past didn't help to chase the cold away either. She hadn't allowed herself to think back to that fateful day too often, even though it had forever remained such a vivid memory – that day when her life had changed for good.

* * *

 _After the curtain had come down on the evening performance of La Traviata, Jean had rushed over to the Coliseum, wanting nothing more than to see and speak to Reggie. However, she had been disillusioned to find that Reggie had already left for the evening. His dresser had informed her apologetically, that he hadn't even bothered to change and take off his stage makeup. Utterly disheartened, Jean had made her way home, hoping against hope she would find Reggie there waiting for her, but what she found instead was an empty house; a house that had once been their home. She was even more horrified to discover his side of the closet had been emptied out and most of his personal belongings gone. Exhausted from the day's emotional events, she curled up on Reggie's side of the bed and clutched his pillow, inhaling his scent deeply before she eventually fell asleep, crying._

 _Jean hadn't been able to get hold of Reggie the next day either and despite further attempts on her part, they hadn't spoken to one another again, except in passing at events and parties. Reggie had proceeded to cancel any joined appearances they were scheduled to make and he had even pulled out of next season's productions stating scheduling difficulties._

 _The one time they had found themselves alone together right before the divorce was finalised, was at a farewell party in honour of one of the opera world's most beloved conductors. They had run into one another on their way to the cloakroom and Jean had used that opportunity to once again convey her deepest regrets over what had happened, asking Reggie to reconsider their divorce and try and talk things over instead. Reggie's response, however, had left no room for discussion. It had been clear and concise, void of any emotion._

" _What's done is done. There's no use talking about it anymore, Jean. It wasn't meant to be."_

 _She had watched him collect his coat and walk out into the night, leaving her behind once more. 'It wasn't meant to be'... those words would continue to echo in the back of her mind as the years went on. The divorce had been granted the following week._

 _Jean had subsequently focussed her attention solely on her career, which had prospered beyond even her own imagination. She had thrown herself full force into her work, carefully cementing her larger-than-life reputation as an ambitious and demanding but hard-working and much lauded performer – anything to distract her from the reality of her own life. Her performances became widely celebrated among the opera community for their veracity and raw emotional truth. Yet no one knew that at the heart of it all lay the excruciating pain caused by the loss of the great love of her life. Over time, Jean had allowed the shattered pieces of her heart to slowly morph into little bricks, constructing a wall to shield her fragile heart from anything ever damaging it again._

 _For all intents and purposes, it'd looked like Jean had moved on with her life after her divorce from Reggie. Over the years, she had engaged in several relationships, with the occasional affair thrown in for good measure, and she'd even gotten married again. Though none of these men, including her two husbands, had been privy to her innermost feelings. Jean had always kept a part of herself closed off from everyone else. A carefully hidden part where her true feelings were buried and where thoughts of Reggie were ever-present. Even her closest friends and family were unaware of the emotional turmoil that continued to rage within her – this nagging feeling of being alone and somehow incomplete._

* * *

Thinking back on it, Jean realised that the many successes and accolades she had gathered throughout her career had never been able to fill the void deep within her. And now, fifty years on, when it had been within her grasp to start over and put the fractured pieces of the puzzle back together, she had allowed her feelings of self-pity to take control and she'd ended up right back where she started from – alone in the cold, with her thoughts and memories as a constant reminder of the things that might have been. She cursed herself for giving in to that stubborn streak of hers that insisted on rearing its ugly head at the most inopportune times, preventing her from showing her vulnerable side and opening up to people. She had made a right mess of things. "That had become something of a habit where Reggie was concerned," she thought to herself cynically.

Jean slowly got up from the bench, leaning heavily on her cane, her face a testament to the discomfort her ailing hip was causing her. She needed to make things right, starting with Cissy – dear Cissy. She was a kind and caring soul with a great capacity to love and forgive, if naïve at times, which used to, and still did, irk Jean to no end. Though, no matter how annoying she may have found Cissy's behaviour earlier, it hadn't warranted her own inexcusable actions. She had taken her hurt and anger out on the wrong person for which she needed to apologise to Cissy in an attempt to salvage any remains of their friendship.

As Jean made her way back into the house, instead of trying to avoid Reggie like she had been doing all day, this time she secretly hoped to run into him and apologise for what had happened. A wry smile appeared on her face as she realised her current relationship with Reggie was no different than it had been when they'd parted ways fifty years prior.

"Nothing's changed. I'm once again apologising for my behaviour," she acknowledged, aware of the blatant irony of it all.

"God... that man! He still manages to make me feel self-conscious," a thought she found to be extremely infuriating yet strangely comforting.

Jean and Reggie had always been equals, both on and off the stage, respecting each other's choices and opinions even when they found themselves on opposite sides of an issue. Jean had always considered herself to be a strong, confident and independent woman, but that didn't take away from the fact that she also needed to feel loved and accepted. Reggie was the one person capable of making her feel that way. As far as Jean was concerned, being near Reggie was as close to coming home as she could imagine, something that had been evident the first time their eyes met again from across the room, the day after she'd moved into Beecham House. Although his reaction to seeing her had been aloof and noncommittal, which had hurt her deeply at the time, looking at him again had made Jean's heart rate accelerate. In many ways, it had reminded her of the day she'd first met Reggie in that dingy rehearsal room adjacent to the opera house. While the years may have gone by in what appeared to have been a flash, time did not heal all wounds nor did it make the heart forget its destiny. Jean found herself gravitating towards Reggie and craving his love and understanding for he remained the sole occupant of that special place in her heart that had been sealed off ages ago.

Even though Jean knew that any chance they might have had at rekindling their love affair had come and gone, being able to mend her friendship with Reggie was worth any effort she needed to make. _He_ was worth the effort.

"No, _we_ are worth the effort," Jean concluded as she walked along the corridor to her room, "If only for the memory of what we once were to each other."


End file.
